


On the first day of Twelfth Perigree

by deliverusfromsburb



Category: Homestuck
Genre: "on the first day of twelfth perigree my matesprit brought to me, - Troll John Williams, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, TLC compliant, a big ass alien tree with no partridges in sight", and Terezi and Jane keep having heart to hearts in high places for some reason, and cameos by/mentions of p much every other surviving cast member, in other news Dirk's roomba (or Doomba) is still at large, my aro ace ass keeps trying to write sorta ship fic for my roommate, postgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:29:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9138274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliverusfromsburb/pseuds/deliverusfromsburb
Summary: Jane needs to come up with a holiday present for Terezi, and it had better be good.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a holiday gift for my roommate because scented candles alone seemed kind of dull. I promised myself I'd get this done by the end of the year, so here it is, still pretty rough around the edges.  
> I guess this would probably take place slightly after Red isn't everything? If I keep this up I'm going to have to establish a chronology or something, which is far more effort than I'd like to expend.  
> Anyway, this is compliant with our alt-ending, but I'm pretty sure you can follow along ok without that.

At least three holidays are being celebrated under your roof this winter, but the one thing everyone agrees on is that there has to be a gift exchange. It’s a tradition, one you kept up even in times of SBURB-inflicted scarcity, and now that you don’t have to scrape together spare grist and alchemy ingredients, whatever you come up had better be spectacular.

With the exception of Rose and Kanaya, who have earned the dubious honor of “the closest to stable we’ve got”, everyone has been avoiding romance. After all, those of you who weren’t burned badly yourselves witnessed the damage firsthand. Even so, some people have started gravitating toward each other, whether or not they acknowledge it. And somehow, without either of you being entirely sure how, you and Terezi are two of those.

Which means, all in all, your present for her needs to be impressive. Too bad you’re stumped. What _do_ you get an alien from another universe you met a few months ago who is sort of maybe your almost date? Even the most comprehensive advice columns can’t help you here.

 

You catch Karkat early one morning in the kitchen. The trolls have mostly adjusted to a diurnal schedule, but they’re often up before the sun, a feat most of you humans don’t match. Terezi, on the other hand, has remained stubbornly nocturnal, prowling around the kitchen in the middle of the night and passing out on the sofa while the rest of you try to make lunch. There’s no risk of her overhearing you looking for information. You duck under a sprig of evergreen to reach him and then pause, scowling up at the offending plant. “Mistletoe? Really? We’ve had enough trouble in that department.”

“It’s not mistletoe,” he tells you, not looking up from the cocktail of fruit juices Kanaya brewed up to imitate something from Alternia. The gunk looks like poison to you, but the trolls love it. “It’s aggreenery. If you’re caught underneath it with some asshole, you’re supposed to fight for dominance. Classic Alternian tradition. My only good memory of our first twelfth perigree on that forsaken hunk of rock was me landing Dave on his ass under it. Rose caught the whole thing on video, if you want to watch.”

“I’ll pass.” You retreat from the aggreenery and pull open the pantry, searching for your cereal among the clutter of boxes. By the time you have a bowl filled, he’s almost done, so you ask, “What kinds of things have you gotten Terezi for holiday presents?”

“What? Why?” Questions still put Karkat on the defensive sometimes, especially those probing into his past, but after a moment he relaxes. “Oh. You’re looking for ideas.”

“I’m having some trouble.”

“I used to too. I’d second guess myself because one wasn’t good enough and another one might give her the wrong idea…” He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “I’d keep changing my mind, run out of time, and end up writing her a card like some wiggler bringing a schoolfeeding project back to their lusus. It was embarrassing. This time I found her an ugly sweater. She’ll love it.”

“You’re not second guessing the sweater?”

“I’m not overthinking everything I do around her anymore. That humiliating chapter of my life is over. But don’t worry, I’ve got a whole library made of humiliating chapters. I’m more prolific than Troll James Patterson, and I actually write it all myself.” He finishes off the last of the murky brown juice while you try not to look disgusted. “Have you tried asking her what she wants? I never did that. Thought I knew better, I guess. Standard past me, the self-absorbed dipshit.”

“I want it to be a surprise.”

He tosses the glass into the sink. (You wince; the group from the meteor is still cavalier about dishware.) “Then make it surprising.”

“Make it surprising,” you mutter to yourself as he leaves. “That’s what our group needs. More surprises.”

 

Whatever the poems say, no sugar plum fairies dance overhead in your dreams, but one morning there’s a winged figure perched on the windowsill.

Aradia’s been gone long enough that other people will come running to see her, so you take your moment alone to ask, “What would you get Terezi for a holiday present?”

“For twelfth perigree?” She tilts her head, running a finger along one curved horn. “Before SGRUB I would’ve gotten her the newest FLARP manual.”

“We don’t FLARP,” you say, wondering again if the F really stands for fatal. “We do play Dungeons and Dragons sometimes, but we have PDFs of all the manuals.” Terezi hasn’t served as DM, either. Instead, she roleplays any dragons the party encounters, more than one would expect for a group their level. Last session, she and Rose brought an entire boss battle to a standstill debating alignment systems.

“I’ve been in and out,” Aradia admits. “We haven’t shared a twelfth perigree together in sweeps. I think other people would know better than me.”

In the past eight months, you’ve seen her a handful of times, although she visits the others more. “Did you see anything interesting out there?” you ask, and her eyes light up. She’s the explorer among you, always wandering off toward some distant star or keeping you updated on bacteria that will someday evolve into sentient life. The rest of you are too worn out from SBURB to venture far. You have time. For now, you’re content to listen to her stories.

“I found a temple a few million lightyears away with engravings and spirographs,” she tells you. How she got a million lightyears away you don’t know, but you assume it’s a Time hero trick. “I’m not sure whether they’re left over from the old system or part of the new one. I came back to pick up my ruins desecration team.”

“They’ll be thrilled.” Dave and Jake have a bag filled with magnifying glasses, gloves, and someone’s pilfered toothbrush stashed in the linen closet, ready to go at a moment’s notice. The group takes their investigations seriously – some of the traces SBURB seeds in universes can be dangerous – although they keep getting into arguments over the professional failings of Indiana Jones. “You should stay a while, though,” you add. “For the holidays.”

She hops down from the windowsill. “I think I will.”

 

“Maybe something for the Chairman?” Jade suggests.

You tap your fingers lightly on the glass of the terrarium, and Chairman Pineapplebottom crawls toward you to investigate. The gecko Jade and Terezi smuggled inside thrives in an exhaustively researched enclosure, suffering only the occasional banishment into someone’s sylladex since no one is supposed to have pets. “What doesn’t he have?”

“You could get him one of those plastic castles, like for fish. Maybe he’d like crawling around on it.” She frowns. “I’d have to make sure those are safe, though.  You’d be surprised what kinds of dangerous things they sell for pets. It’s trickier when you’re not taking care of an immortal dog who’s been around forever.”

“This isn’t for the Chairman’s Christmas present. Or… gift of non-specific holiday affiliation. Sorry.” You pat the glass lightly in apology. The gecko seems unconcerned by your presumption. A reasonable one, you think, since they posted pictures of him in a tiny Santa hat yesterday. “Even if you share custody, I’m not sure it’s fitting.”

“I guess not…” Jade chews her lip. “What’s something only you can get her?”

“I could bake something.” Compared to everyone else’s interests and skills, yours seem mundane. “But I’m already doing that. It doesn’t feel very exciting.”

“I don’t think all my present ideas are super exciting, but I see your point.”

You sigh, looking away from the Chairman to the pots clustered on a table beneath Jade’s window. “I don’t recognize this,” you say, reaching out toward an electric blue shrub.

“It’s from John’s planet,” she explains. “I brought some clippings from different lands up during our trip. This one glows in the dark, like the plants you and Rose grew on Roxy’s planet.”

You run a finger over the slick leaves, and a memory surfaces. Terezi, spreading her arms wide, telling you, “You think fall smells good here? You should have seen it back home. My hive was the _best_.”

Something only you can do.

“I think I’ve thought of something,” you say.

 

You need John and Jade for the execution of your plan. Your children, although the thought makes you uneasy, as does the mix of your and Jake’s features clear on their faces. It’s something you forfeited the privilege to long ago. Still, you like them, and they’re eager to help.

John fulfills his part of the plan easily enough, vanishing without even the pop of displaced air Jade leaves behind. According to him, as soon as he decides not to be somewhere, reality rewrites everything – including air distribution – accordingly without a ripple. Jade always clicks her tongue when he does that, irritated at a violation of natural rules even worse than her own.

When he returns, you take what he’s brought for you and let Jade examine it. She concentrates, momentary annoyance forgotten. “I don’t know,” she says. “It could work, but our planets are different. Not so different trolls can’t survive here, at least in the short term, but our suns are different distances away. That’s only the obvious bit.”

“Dave had to look at a bunch of climate readouts when we were picking the planet for the mothergrub,” John says. “I don’t remember the details, though."

“We should run some tests,” Jade decides. “Smaller scale. Do you think you could make another trip, John?”

“You guys are taking me for granted,” he complains, but then the universe rewrites itself, and he’s gone.

 

Jade has restored her greenhouse, attaching it to the back of your Frankensteined compound. Other people help occasionally – Kanaya and Calliope most frequently – but you keep this project hidden from even them. The ruse works until one day when Jade has left to pick up some snacks, leaving you without the protection of her enhanced hearing. Kanaya takes you by surprise, poking her head in through the door. When she sees what you’re working with, her eyes widen. “Is that…?”

“You’d know better than me,” you say. There’s no point lying.

“It’s been so long.” She walks over to your table, pulling on a pair of the gloves Jade leaves lying by the door. “Can I?”

You nod, and she leans forward to breathe in the scent of alien flowers that have just been coaxed into blooming. The look on her face makes you think you’ve made the right decision after all.

 

There’s disagreement over which day to unwrap everyone’s gifts, until Dirk admits that some of his might escape on their own. That decides things for you.  After everyone has finished exclaiming over Calliope and Kanaya’s additions to their wardrobes, you’ve determined which gifts go to which Daves, and John has successfully disarmed Dirk’s multipurpose roomba, you try to scoot Terezi outside without anyone else noticing. Naturally, this means the rest of the household comes trooping out after you.

“Where are you taking me?” Terezi asks, clutching your arm even though you know she can walk through the backyard perfectly well on her own. “Are you planning on standing me up against a wall and then executing me with a pie?”

“I’d have to give you a cigarette first,” you point out. “That’s one of the rules of wartime. And no, it’s no prank. I just can’t show you your present inside.”

“Have you finally found where the Earth dragons are hiding?”

“Sorry,” John says from behind you. “Like we said, Earth is boring.”

“Sure,” Jade says, defensive of your home planet. “We have over 300,000 different kinds of beetles, pine trees that are thousands of years old, and at least one giant squid, but if there aren’t any dragons it’s boring, right?”

“Yup.”

You roll your eyes and uncurl your fingers around what John brought you – a pale blue seed, slightly smaller than your palm and rough around the edges. Jade helped you prepare an area of soil in the backyard, and it’s loose and damp when you push the seed into it.

“You got her dirt,” Hal says, delighted at the opportunity to be sarcastic. You ignore him.

Life is a volatile Aspect, one you have to watch. It strains; it tries to grow beyond its proper bounds. But you’ve had experience telling which parts of yourself to submit, and this power knows to obey you now. Now you urge it toward the seed cradled in the earth, a million light years and a universe away from home.

A tendril pokes above the surface and then lengthens into a sapling, which shoots toward the sky. You feed it seasons of growth in seconds, feeling the hot glare of invisible summers’ sunlight on your forehead, hearing the creak of roots seeking moisture underground. You guide them away from the house’s foundations and feel your tongue go bone dry as they pull years’ worth of water from the soil; you’ll need to come out with a hose later. Jade was right – the tree is looking for some things that aren’t there in your world’s soil or sky. It will never be tall, or reach as far. But it can grow strong and survive here, and that’s enough.

You’re wobbly when you stand from your position now cradled between two gnarled roots, but no one’s watching you stumble. Everyone has their neck craned up to look at the bright blue alien tree sprouting from your backyard.

“Do we need a neighborhood permit for this?” Dave asks.

Terezi walks toward it, extending a hand to touch the trunk like it’s an animal that might take fright and bound away. When it doesn’t, she scrambles up the tree faster than you would have imagined possible. Perched on one of the middle branches, she screeches, “Hey Rose, I can see into your room from here!”

“Voyeurs,” Rose says dryly. “One more thing to worry about.”

Roxy punches you lightly on the shoulder. “You’re showing the rest of us up, Janey. And you didn’t get _me_ a tree.”

 

Past experience means a tree timelapsing its way into existence in your backyard isn’t that exciting for anyone, and the promise of food soon lures everyone else back indoors, leaving the two of you alone. Your tree climbing skills are limited, so instead you float up to the branch Terezi’s perched on. The gnarled blue wood is almost as thick as your waist – it can easily take your combined weight. “It wouldn’t support a house,” you say, rapping your knuckles on the branch, “but a good sized treehouse, that you could do.”

Terezi doesn’t say anything. She leans with her cheek pressed against the bark, sightless eyes closed. You can’t read the expression on her face, and worry – until now buried under the anticipation of unveiling your gift – bubbles up inside you. She doesn’t like it. She hates it. She has terrible memories of this place, and you’ve brought them back. She thinks you’re accusing her of being too obsessed with her old life. Or it’s too forward. Who grows someone an entire tree for the holidays, especially when they’re not even really dating? What if this constitutes an alien proposal?

You can’t defuse all of these possibilities at the same time, so you go for the one that seems most likely. “I hope this isn’t part of the past you didn’t want to remember.  I’m not trying to say you can’t move on, or anything like that. But sometimes we miss the strangest things. Dirk told me he has an audio file of the sea, for when he can’t sleep without it sometimes, even though he hated being all alone. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with holding on to some pieces of our past, as long as we’re not trying to live entirely in it. But if this was a bad idea —”

“I like it,” she says, startling you into silence. “But I didn’t get you anything.”

“I didn’t notice,” you admit. You’d been too caught up in your own plans to pay attention to whatever anyone else had come up with. Only the attack roomba had made an impression.

“I was working on it, but then the deadline caught up with me. Don’t tell Dirk – he’s already looking for excuses to blame himself for things; he’d be distraught to think he ruined human Christmas like that grouchy pea soup furry living on the mountain.”

You have to think about that one for a moment. “The Grinch?”

“That’s the one.”

You make a mental note never to let anyone in Roxy’s family find out what Terezi thinks of the Grinch. You can already imagine how they’d rewrite the song. “I’ll keep all this between the two of us.”

 “I appreciate it. No one can accuse me of contributing to any more carroty Striders’ crises of conscience.” She sighs and tilts her head back. Bands of light and shadow play across her face as the winter sun filters through bare branches. “So instead, let me give you a picture. I’ll show you what my home used to be like. But you’ll have to close your eyes.”

You’d rather not, considering how far up you are, but you _can_ fly, so you do, digging your fingers into the bark to steady yourself. Once she’s satisfied (can she smell your irises?) Terezi starts to talk.

“It’s winter now, but when the leaves sprout the whole canopy is like floating in a cloud of bubblegum. It’s spicy and sweet and you want to stuff handfuls of leaves in your mouth, but they don’t taste as good as they smell. The ground down below had a layer of green moss that you could sink your toes into, it was so thick. You could drop things down from the branches and they would bounce once, maybe twice if you were lucky. Sometimes, if you kept quiet and still, birds would land nearby. They were like noisy colors flying around my head. Sometimes they even came into my room if something spooked them.

“Back… when I could see, the first time, I used to pretend I could see all the way across the planet from my hive. That the horizon was just to fool you, and if you concentrated really hard, you could see everything. I felt powerful up there. I had traps, and supplies, and knew escape routes out across the branches in all directions if anything came after me. Maybe everyone down on the ground was in trouble, but I was untouchable.” You hear her breathe in. “Everything else is different, but the smell is the same.” Even you can pick up on a tang from the wood, like a spice you can’t name. “This reminds me of how that felt,” she says. “Thank you.”

You risk opening your eyes. Maybe it’s the heady smell, or the relief of a gift gone right, or the holiday season with its evergreen traps and New Year’s kisses and a million other opportunities for just this, romance and risks and maybe a few mistakes along the way, but you lean over and kiss her on the cheek. Roxy would laugh, but you’re not brave enough to do much else. Not right now. Maybe next year. It’s only a few days away.

“No mistletoe,” she says, raising her eyebrows.

“Your species doesn’t believe in mistletoe,” you point out. “But not everyone knows that yet. I saw Roxy lingering under the aggreenery earlier. Want to see if we can catch her by surprise with one of those pies you mentioned?”

“Bring the camera,” she says, and pulls you both off the branch, trusting that you’ll catch her.


End file.
